Bleed
by starlit.serenity
Summary: Merlin has a magical problem. Arthur lends a hand. Filth ensues.


"I need you to stab me" It isn't the strangest thing ever to come from Merlin's mouth, but it's damn close and Arthur quirks an eyebrow in a way that says _I don't know why I still put up with you._

"I probably won't die, and Gaius said he woudn't do it so-" The knife blade glints menacingly in the candle light, reflected brightly in Merlin's wide, _golden _eyes. "I can't ask anyone else."

"Have you gone completely mad? You can't ask me things like that!" The knife swishes dangerously as Merlin doubles over, wincing. There's a frenzy about him, the room thick with an invisible energy that's weeping from Merlin's skin, buzzing about him as if the very air around him is buzzing with life.

"It's sort of hard to-_oh!_" A slick of red oozes down his forearm where the blade has nicked the flesh, its warm golden glow brighter than any flame and just for a moment Arthur is transfixed by the absolute beauty of it.

"Is that?" His voice is barely a whisper but Merlin hears, smiles a secret sort of knowing smile and nods ever-so slightly. His eyes are nothing of the cool blue Arthur is accustomed to, but rather hot with the same unearthly golden light that tainted his blood.

"There's too much, I can't-_!_" He gives a horrible strangled cry as he crumples to the floor, whimpering as gold oozes onto the bare stone. Arthur pulls him roughly to his feet, ignoring his feeble protests and flailing limbs.

"Come on make your legs work, I'm not _your _servant!" Merlin falls just as ungracefully to the bed, his eyes flashing as Arthur pulls his shirt over his head. His skin burns with a supernatural heat, something struggling to free itself from its human prison. It isn't Merlin, not Arthur's Merlin anyway, who stares up at him, all snowy skin and wide, hungry eyes, and it helps somehow, for Arthur feels no qualms for what he's about to do.

The first cut is small and precise, Merlin's gasp of pain breaking into a sigh of pleasure as blood wells in the wound and gold leaks across his skin. His eyes flutter and fists clench into the thick pelts on the bed, head thrown back in pure bliss as Arthur slashes upwards across his abdomen, a thin, clean gash to mar his pale skin.

Beneath Merlin's beating heart he cuts deep and Merlin groans, rearing up against the headboard as the colours of his prince slick across his flesh, smudging and smearing under Arthur's clever hands.

He whispers Arthur's name, whimpers it, moans it with each cut and Arthur presses harder, slices deeper, lets fingers wander broken flesh and loses himself in the keening crescendo of pleasure that ripples over Merlin's lips. It's beautiful, wonderful, and he wants more.

"Please-" Merlin is begging "Arthur, please-" His hands are slick with red and gold and they seek out Arthur, drag him forwards and up and press their mouths together in a frenzy that tastes of copper and salt. Teeth bump and scrape and Arthur bites down hard on Merlin's full lower lip, worrying it until he tastes the metallic tang of blood and the sweetness of magic on his tongue, complimenting the warm, insistent tingle forming in the pit of his stomach.

Arthur's hand is still closed around the blade, forces a strangled groan from somewhere deep in Merlin's throat as he pushes against the tender, bloodied flesh of his manservant's stomach. Fingernails bite painfully into his back, but it's too good to stop and he grits his teeth against the sting of broken skin.

"Tell me Merlin-" He's hissing low and frantic, working the blade up Merlin's ribcage, taking him apart at the seams. "Tell me what you need, tell me, tell me-" The blade glints as he snaps it towards Merlin's neck, resting the cool metal against his pulse. Merlin's pupils are blown wide and rimmed with gold as he whimpers and claws at Arthur's back.

"I need- I need- Oh- _Arthur!_" Merlin lets out a long inhuman wail, hips rising completely from the mattress as the knife slips from Arthur's hand, scrapes across his skin and skitters into a dark corner.

"Tell me Merlin, _Tell me!_" He bites Merlin's neck, tasting the impossible sweetness that permeates his skin, slides his tongue up and around an earlobe, jubilant as Merlin cries out in a ragged voice.

"I need- _Fuck! _Need _you_ Arthur, need-" He's rutting against Arthur's hip, hard and desperate, and Arthur's wondering why he never considered how absolutely _delicious _this could be.

So the second kiss he gives Merlin is sweet and sincere and for a moment the magic recedes, and Merlin comes back to himself, all big ears and cerulean eyes bright with fear as he struggles beneath Arthur's heavy weight.

"You've got to let me go, you can't, I-" He breaks off with a sigh as Arthur catches his mouth and claims it hungrily, Merlin's body still writhing against his. Arthur's kiss is hot and wet and feels like possession, a mark of his desire to keep Merlin for himself always. It frightens him, the overwhelming force of emotion, but he pushes it aside in favour of more pressing matters.

"Let me help you Merlin" Arthur murmurs against his mouth, and Merlin shakes his head and stills against him.

"Didn't work, not- not enough-" He gasps, and Arthur is put in mind of embracing a furnace as every inch of Merlin's skin bursts into heat, white hot and searing. A boiling, rolling heat that makes it impossible to hold on, forces Arthur to crawl across the ruined bed and grab the jug of water kept on hand at all times.

It actually sizzles as it hits Merlin's skin.

"Do it Merlin, whatever it is you have to do to make this stop, do it!" Merlin shakes his head violently as he struggles against the heat threatening to engulf him completely, the gold now burning through his skin. "Merlin, you're my manservant! I _command _you to do it!" He bellows. "You aren't going to die you useless bastard!"

Merlin, suddenly possessed of an unexpected strength, rears up, grabbing Arthur and flipping roughly, holding him down against the mattress as they slide together. Arthur's expensive clothing may as well be tissue for the speed and efficiency with which Merlin disposes of it, pressing their bodies together with a moan of delight. He smiles lazily down at Arthur, naked as the day he was born, eyes awash with silver and gold.

_Just lie back and think of Camelot _Arthur tells himself, which is a wonderful plan for the first two seconds until Merlin sucks insistently at the junction of shoulder and neck and begins expertly fucking him open with two fingers. Then of course, it's all Arthur can do to keep his whimpering sighs at a minimum.

Merlin is whispering against his skin, shoving against his thigh and twisting his hand just so- oh! _Oh. _Arthur gives a low whine as pushes back against Merlin's touch and something that sounds awfully like "_More, more-_" bubbles over his lips.

He finds himself suddenly empty and equally as unexpectedly filled with something a great deal more satisfying that Merlin's fingers. A broken sound tears itself from Arthur's throat, pain and pleasure and thick, unbridled _want. _

Merlin is absolutely merciless, forcing his knees further apart and manoeuvring until Arthur's thighs are wrapped securely around his waist, gasping as Merlin's stomach grazes against his cock with every thrust.

It would be a shock, on any other day to find his skin suddenly gleaming and luminescent but he understands the magic is bleeding into him, warm and delicious and he knows he'll take all Merlin can give, lose himself to the overwhelming need, over and over, to the rhythm of more, more, _more_.

He drinks in the image of Merlin moving above him, head thrown back and mouth open, his blazing golden eyes unfocussed as he fucks him relentlessly. He's murmuring words, slurred and unintelligible, and Arthur knows it must be magic, and magic the same answering from somewhere within himself, calling out in recognition.

Merlin's hands wander Arthur's flesh, and he whimpers as hot fingers whisper across his aching length, teasing and stroking until he's bucking helplessly into Merlin's hand. Arthur knows he's teetering on the edge of a great precipice and he wants dearly, more than anything, to let go and fall but Merlin's blinking sleepily and slowing and his eyes are suddenly very blue and very wide and he's cruelly slipping away.

"For fucks sake, _don't stop!_" Arthur cries, reaching out to pull Merlin back, his body arching as he moans with pleasure and the sting of slapping flesh. Merlin is shaking now, twitching inside him and it's fucking amazing, the slow, deep strokes that have him babbling and incoherent and begging Merlin for god-only-knows-what.

"Arthur-" Merlin is breathing at his ear, gasping his name over and over like a mantra, and Arthur groans out something that sounds vaguely like "Fuck, _yes!_" and feels every aching muscle tighten completely beyond his control as he comes with a silent gasp and clutches limply to Merlin, smearing himself between their chests.

A moment later Arthur feels Merlin explode inside him, searing and wonderful, the room suddenly ablaze with magic, ricocheting off the walls and sparking against the windows. Candles spontaneously burst into life, plates on the table suddenly overflow with fresh summer fruits, Merlin giving a choked cry and collapsing against his chest, sticky and blessedly cool.

Bloodied hand prints mark Arthur's flesh, no longer gold and scarlet but sanguine. Merlin withdraws carefully and though Arthur aches with the sudden emptiness he holds Merlin tight to his chest, listening to his pulse roar in his ears and their tandem breaths slowly returning to normal.

"Arthur-" Merlin murmurs groggily, and with something that sounds a lot like regret and Arthur is about to say _don't you dare fucking apologise to me _when he feels the tension slip from Merlin's body and opens his eyes to see his manservant blink once, twice, and then fall still as sleep captures him. His skin is flushed pink and for all Arthur's efforts completely free of any marks from a blade or otherwise, the magic having healed them with more skill than any physician.

Arthur surrenders too, exhausted and aching, and if in the moment between consciousness and sleep he thinks he might just be a bit stupidly in love with Merlin, he doesn't remember long enough to let it trouble him.


End file.
